Running On Nothing
by Kaleidoscopic Panda Bear
Summary: Edward was getting ready to just say screw it and find a nice corner to curl up and die in. "Please, Colonel. I just need five minutes. Feels like I'm gonna be sick." "It's fine, Fullmetal, just get some rest. Your report can wait." But Mustang would spare an eternity for the kid that constantly ran on nothing if he thought that the boy needed it.


**Author's Note: Hey, guys! -disclaimerdisclaimerdisclaimer- I think I honestly just have a thing for Parental!RoyEd and Ed passing out in Roy's office and junk like that, because this is my second story with that happening. Anyways, I hope they're not too alike; I tried to make them as different as possible, but oh well. Enjoy either way!**

When faced with exhaustion, most people become testy. They become agitated, short tempered, irrational. Most people become hellish to deal with when sleep deprived. Edward Elric, however, was not like most people.

Ungloved and cold, metal fingertips pressed against cheeks and traced purple bags under dulled, golden eyes from lack of sleep, keeping the teen focused and awake as he continued his trek towards Central HQ. The two day train ride back to Central had been a bad one; normally Edward could sleep just fine on trains, but Alphonse hadn't been with him that time. Along the way, the younger Elric brother had gotten off in Resembool to visit with Winry and Pinako, leaving Ed alone for the duration of the train ride back to Central.

Ed could normally sleep on trains. Normally, meaning when his brother was around to keep watch over his sleeping form. Otherwise, he was too edgy and paranoid to sleep in any sort of public place.

Having not slept in over forty eight hours, Edward was more than a little downtrodden and listless. All he wanted to do was report back to the Colonel Bastard so he could finally reach his dorm room, where the teen was determined to catch up on as much sleep as he could.

His eyes stung every time he forced them back open, his flesh joints creaked in protest with every move he made, and his automail ports ached with a particular vengeance that he only ever normally felt within the hours after they had been reconnected with his raw nerve endings. He was more than ready for some much needed sleep.

Once Edward reached the building, a groan of frustration made its way past his lips. 'Stairs,' the blonde thought disdainfully, 'are the bane of my existence today.' And after four flights of them, with his automail leg feeling as if it weighed ten more pounds then it should, Edward was getting ready to just say fuck it and find a nice corner to curl up and die in. The only thing that stopped him from doing so was the fact that he had already made it this far.

Standing in front of the heavy oak double doors that lead to Mustang's outer office, Edward took a few moments of pity on his protesting body to lean his forehead up against the wood and listen to what was going on inside. It seemed to be a pretty quiet day for Mustang and his crew though, for all Ed heard for a long while was the rustling of papers and the light banter between Breda and Havoc. The two men seemed to be betting on something.

The teen must have been standing there longer then he realized, long enough for his eyes to slide shut of their own accord, but that quickly changed when he was startled out of his light doze by a loud and sudden bark from right next to him.

"Hush, Black Hayate. No barks. You know better," the words were spoken towards the tuxedoed mutt at their feet, but Hawkeye's curious and slightly worried gaze was on Edward's face.

"Hello there, Edward. Excuse the interruption, but I need to get through." It took a few more seconds than it should have for the words to register and process in the teen's head.

"I, uh. Sorry, Lieutenant. I'll get out of your way," Edward stepped back from the door, pulling it open for the woman as he did so. She shifted the stack of papers in her arms as she walked through the entry way, waving back in the teen's direction.

"Leaning against doors isn't necessarily the best place for a nap, Fullmetal. The Colonel can wait for your report; I suggest going back to your dorm room for some sleep first." Edward followed her path across the threshold, ignoring the chorus of greetings tossed his way.

"No can do, Lieutenant. I'm already here, so I'm doing this now. Sleep can wait a few more hours," trying to seem at least semi-normal, Ed gave Hawkeye a wide smile, but a yawn ruined his attempt. A raised eyebrow and a tight frown were what he got in response.

"Are you sure about that, Ed? It looks like you haven't slept for days. And where's your brother, by the way?"

Ed stood by the window as Hawkeye went around to all the men, plopping down a portion of the paperwork she held on each of their desks. The groans and complaints from them nearly swallowed Edward's reply.

"He got off the train back in Resembool. He'll be there for the next two weeks, but then he's coming back here again." He purposely ignored the first half of the sharp shooter's statement, but she let it slide.

With the last and largest portion of the paperwork tucked under one arm, Riza carefully eyed Edward up and down once more before the disapproving little frown reappeared.

"Well, if you insist on giving your report today, then follow me. The Colonel can see you now." And with that, she turned on her heel, rapped her knuckles a few times against the door to Mustang's private office, pushed it open without waiting for an answer, and walked up to the man's desk. She put the bundle of papers she held on top of an already rather large stack on the corner of his desk, did an almost jerky salute, and muttered, "Fullmetal is here to give his report, Sir," before walking back out again and closing the door after herself.

Neither alchemist said anything for a moment. Edward's gaze lingered on the door before flickering away to meet Roy's, the teen sighing internally and shuffling closer to the desk. Before he could greet his commanding officer in any sort of way, the man shook his head at him.

"I don't know what you did to piss my lieutenant off, Fullmetal, but make sure to apologize before you go." Edward didn't have the energy in him to argue or protest. He was sure that the woman was only worried about him, not necessarily angry, but the teen didn't quite care either way. Hawkeye wasn't his mother. He didn't need the woman crawling up his ass about his sleeping habits, or rather, his lack of them.

Edward just sighed and shifted his weight off of his aching metal leg. Except, his real limb protested just as much, if not more, when he placed all of his weight onto it. Grimacing, not really concerned about hiding the slight limp anymore, the blonde turned away from Mustang's desk to settle more comfortably on one of the man's leather couches. When he looked back up, Roy was staring at him with his brow furrowed and a downwards tug to one side of his mouth.

"Ugh. Not you, too," Edward muttered, his automail hand passing over his face again.

"Come again, Fullmetal?" Golden eyes glared defiantly in the Colonel's direction.

"Stop giving me that look, Mustang. I'm fine, so let me just start this bullshit report so I can get outta here."

The mildly concerned expression dropped off of Roy's face, leaving behind his normal and slightly annoyed look. "As pleased as I am to hear you finally admit that you give terrible oral reports and that you believe you're alright, Fullmetal, you frankly look and sound as if you feel like hell. But considering how stubborn you are, I don't suppose you'll be leaving my office until you finish what you came here to do, now will you."

It wasn't quite a question, more of an observation, but seeing on how Edward had zoned out half way though Mustang's sentence, he wouldn't have been able to answer his commanding officer anyhow. The exhausted teen leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, pressing his fingertips together and hiding his face in his hands. He was beginning to get a headache.

"Fullmetal, you can begin at any time." Edward only buried his face further into his hands at the sound of the man's voice. After a few more rather long moments of silence, Mustang spoke up again, becoming irritated with the teen. "Report now or leave, Edward. I don't have all day to wait for you to-" a hand held up in his direction halted his complaint, however.

Edward never looked up at him. The teen simply turned his protesting body so that he was laying down flat on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light, other hand resting over his stomach. "Please, Colonel. I just need five minutes. Feels like I'm gonna be sick," Edward mumbled the last part mostly to himself, but Roy still picked up on it. That part wasn't even what worried him, though; Edward never said please, and the teen most certainly did not let the word 'colonel' slip by without an insult attached to it somewhere. Yet, he had just done both.

Mustang swiftly stood out of his chair, making his way over to the boy reclining on his couch. Without warning, he grabbed Edward's arm and pulled it away from his eyes. A halfhearted glare and an uncompleted demand died before they could fully be formed, however, as Ed saw Roy's hand aiming towards his unprotected face and flinched back harshly into the sofa.

Golden, weary eyes fluttered back open when the same hand he had flinched away from made soft contact with his forehead. Roy was merely checking to see if he had a temperature. Unhappy with what he found, Mustang straightened back up and released the automail limb he still had a grip on. Edward attempted to sit back up, but was pushed back into his laying position by the man as a heavy, military issued blue coat that smelled of charcoal and smoke was dropped over his form.

" 'M sorry," the teen muttered as he threw his arm back over his eyes, for a different reason this time.

"It's fine, Edward, get some rest. Your report can wait." No more words were exchanged between the two as the office fell silent, save for Roy's pen scratching against paper and Edward's light snoring and occasional, unintelligible mutter from the couch.

Later on, Havoc quietly knocked once and peeked his head in. The chain smoker said not a word when taking in the scene, and Roy never asked what he wanted. When the door shut again, voices could still be heard on the other side.

"Naw, Breda. The colonel didn't kill the chief. Kid's passed out like a sack of rocks on the couch, is all. And get this: Bossman's actually doing his paperwork!" A deeper voice shot back an, "Awe. That's nice. And hey, maybe Hawkeye will be a little more lenient on us now, yeah?" A metallic click or three was heard next. Then, a female voice. "Not a chance, men. Now get back to work."

Roy smiled fondly down at the paper he was doodling all over, then glanced up to the sleeping form on his couch. Edward had only asked for five minutes, but Mustang would spare an eternity for the kid that constantly ran on nothing if he thought that the boy needed it. After all, someone had to make sure he was okay at the end of the day.


End file.
